


Unexpected

by Shadow_Belle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-07
Updated: 2011-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-25 19:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Belle/pseuds/Shadow_Belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the SansaxSandor comment fic meme. It's not Ser Dontos to her rescue, but the Hound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

Ser Dontos?” Sansa ventured quietly. The man hadn’t spoken for some time and she could see nothing in the black pitch of the cave. Suddenly, the only thing solid was the scrap of silk that served as a leading string between them.

When he didn’t answer her, fear was like a knife in her gut and it twisted hard. This was a trap. When the Lannisters found out how she’d tried to escape, if she was lucky, they’d only kill her. Her feet froze midstep and she could go no further.

But neither could she turn around.

Tears coursed down her cheeks, hot and heavy. She was so stupid. A stupid little bird, just as the Hound had said. She wished for him now, not because he’d save her. He’d probably be the one who took her head. But he’d do it honestly. And pray to the Seven quickly. She shuddered as she thought of the times she’d seen the headsman take three of four passes, hacking away at flesh. His strength would be a mercy.

A callused thumb brushed a tear from her cheek in a familiar motion. It was him! Terror at the end of all things and elation that it would all be over warred inside of her.

“Don’t be afraid,” he rasped softly.

“Will you do it before you take me back to him?” she asked, hating the tremor in her voice. “Tell him I ran.”

“You think I’m here to punish you?” He pulled her forward and she crashed into the broad wall of his chest.

“Aren’t you? You’re Joffrey’s Hound.” She didn’t struggle, it gave her a sick sense of safety to be so close to him. He’d never hurt her and all that restrained power in his body, he could snap her neck and she’d never feel it. The Hound would kill her, but he wouldn’t make her suffer.

“You couldn’t look at my face in front of hundreds where you were safe, but here in the dark, where you think  
I’m to kill you, you cling to me.” There was no accusation in his voice, only sardonic amusement.

And she was clinging, she’d wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest and there was no power in the world now that could compel her to let go, except for maybe the man himself.

“Because you won’t hurt me, even if you take my life,” she mumbled against him.

His large hand stroked down her hair then. “No, I won’t hurt you, little bird,” he said so quietly, she almost didn’t hear him. “And I’m not here to take your life.”

Then what was he here for? To save her? Disbelief hit her like a fist. “Then why?”

He swept her up in his arms easily and moved forward in the darkness, his steps sure. Sansa hooked her arm around his neck. He hadn’t answered her, but she knew why. She wasn’t that naïve. Not anymore. Anything he wanted from her would be better than Joffrey. He was risking his life for her and deserved any reward of his choosing. She had nothing to fear with him. He’d said he wouldn’t hurt her and a hound would never lie.

As they emerged from the cave and into the dark night, he finally spoke. “When you are a woman, you will be mine.”

She bit her lip, unsure how she should answer. She’d had her moon blood. “I am a woman now.”

“No, you are still a child. A beautiful child, but a child nonetheless. I’m a dog, not a beast.”

“But you are my hound now. Aren’t you?” she asked carefully as he deposited her atop his horse.

“Yes. Now, stop chirping. There are many leagues ahead of us before we can rest.”

She did as he instructed and relaxed against him, a warm feeling of safety enveloping her. This man belonged to her. He would stand between her and the dark things in the world.

She’d given up on dreams of knights and chivalry, even when she’d put her faith in Ser Dontos. She’d half expected to die. But Sansa realized now she shouldn’t have. Sandor Clegane may not have had the spurs, he’d taken no vows, spoken no courtly poetry or asked for her favor. But he’d rescued her from a great evil. He’d fight for her and he’d die for her. She could ask for no more. Skin didn’t make a man, but his actions. Her father had taught her that and somehow she’d forgotten it until now.

Sansa decided not to tell him he was better than any hero knight. She knew he wouldn’t understand that she knew the difference between the world of men and the world of tales. So she contented herself to just lean against his hard body and let the warmth of safety envelope her.


End file.
